


What Happens in Russia

by jesileigh



Series: Secrets, Secrets [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff, Russia, Smut, Vodka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesileigh/pseuds/jesileigh
Summary: Several months have passed since Oliver told Felicity he didn't want to risk their friendship by trying to fix their relationship. The team is celebrating a victory in Russia when the vodka gets the best of them. Again. Will what happened in Russia stay in Russia?Sequel/Follow Up to "Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun" and "Ease the Pain"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be angst. There will be fluff. There will be smut. And there will be a happily ever after.  
> I know Secrets, Secrets didn't end the way most had hoped, but it didn't feel organic. Based on the "Mistakes happen after Russian vodka" trope as well as working in a prompt from twitter regarding Oliver saying Felicity's name while with Isabel the last time they went to Russia.

“To OTA!” Felicity giggled, holding up her shot glass. “The OGs. The Original Gangstas.” John and Oliver clinked their glasses against hers, both suppressing smiles, and downed the vodka quickly, all three wincing at the burn.

“Oh man,” John groaned. “That’s so much stronger at the source.”

“One more!” Felicity demanded.

“I’m out,” John said. “I need to call Lyla and get to bed.” He set his glass down and slapped Oliver on the back before hugging Felicity with one arm. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and grinned up at him, her cheeks rosy from the alcohol and he shook his head. “You two should probably get to bed soon too. We have a long trip home tomorrow.” Oliver nodded in agreement and set down the bottle he was holding.

“Goodnight,” he said. 

“ ‘night John!” Felicity called after his retreating back. Then, before Oliver could react, she snatched the bottle of booze off the nightstand and resettled herself on the end of Oliver’s bed, her legs folded beneath her. 

“Don’t get too carried away, Felicity,” Oliver warned her. “John’s right. It’s a lot stronger here.” Felicity scoffed and rolled her eyes at him, filling their shot glasses to the brim where she balanced them precariously on her knees. 

“When in Russia, do as the Russians, I always say,” she said brightly, holding her glass aloft. Oliver scrambled to claim his before she spilled it all over the duvet. “Okay I don’t always say that, actually. I don’t usually have a reason to say that because I don’t get to Russia very often. Except that one time when we were here to get Lyla.” 

Oliver tilted his head and smiled at her as she babbled, taking her in. Drunk Felicity was one of his favorite Felicities. And the type of Drunk Felicity varied greatly based on the type of alcohol she imbibed. For instance: in Mexico Felicity had discovered a love for margaritas. Tequila-drunk Felicity was a bit wild. She didn’t like to keep her clothes on, she danced on the bar and she was absolutely insatiable when they got back to their hotel room. 

They’d shared a bottle of whiskey between them to spice up their lemonades at a Fourth of July get-together in a little podunk town in Texas and Felicity’s mouth had gone from zero to sixty. Whiskey-drunk Felicity liked to swear. Her fraks turned to fucks and every other word out of her mouth was something that would have made a nun blush. Generally Oliver would have found this cute, but at a family-friendly fireworks display, he had to admonish her repeatedly, until he finally dragged her back to the car and shut her up with his mouth. 

Then there was wine-drunk Felicity. That was the type he was most often privy to during their time together. Felicity loved wine. Her cheeks would turn pink and she would be extra snuggly as they sat on the couch together after dinner, watching a movie. Sometimes she would get emotional, and a bit insecure, depending on how much she’d had. But Oliver had no problem showering her in kisses and I love yous until there was no doubt in her mind that he worshipped the ground she walked on. Lately there hadn’t been any snuggling or kissing, but after their talk about not wanting to risk their friendship, they had spent a few evenings watching movies and sharing a glass of wine here and there. It almost felt normal again.  

Vodka-drunk Felicity was not one he saw very often, but he usually thoroughly enjoyed it when he did. She didn’t get wild or crazy, but her babbles intensified and she became infinitely more adorable to the point it made his chest hurt just to listen to her. A night with vodka usually ended in a fit of giggles for Felicity, and in turn, Oliver. Which had been new for him, as he’d never been the type to  _ giggle _ before. But hers was infectious, so who was he to fight it? 

And so here she was, talking his ear off as he listened with a grin plastered on his face. She was waving her glass around but hadn’t gotten around to drinking it quite yet, sloshing a little over the sides but impressively containing the majority of it. 

“And the last time we were here was not this much fun. You must have taken one too many knocks to the head to end up in bed with  _ her _ .” Felicity’s nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought and Oliver sighed. 

“So much for ‘what happens in Russia, stays in Russia’,” he muttered with an eye roll. 

“We’re  _ in _ Russia, Ol’ver.” Felicity insisted, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “So I can give you as much shit--oops! Crap. I can give you as much  _ crap _ as I want to.” She accentuated this proclamation with a finger jab in the middle of his chest, the other hand still holding the very full shot glass she seemed to have forgotten about. Oliver chuckled at the way she corrected herself and nodded. 

“I guess you’re right.”

“She was pure  _ evil _ Oliver!” Felicity continued. “And she  _ hated _ me. Even before I hit her Mirakuru ass with the van--why do I keep swearing like this?” She caught sight of the vodka and regarded it with suspicion before shrugging. 

“I know,” he agreed. “I never claimed to be proud of what happened that night.” Felicity huffed and rolled her eyes at him. 

“I never understood why she seemed to hate me even more after she slept with you. It didn’t make any sense.” Oliver watched Felicity’s eyes narrow as she thought about it, as though she might be able to make sense of Isabel’s disdain for her if she squinted hard enough.

“I might have some idea why,” Oliver admitted, his voice quiet. Felicity tilted her head, more exaggerated than usual, and pursed her lips. “She...she may have sensed that she didn’t have my full attention that night.” Felicity’s eyebrows shot up.

“What does  _ that _ mean?” 

“I uh...I might have...said someone else’s name while I was... _ with _ her.” 

“Ooo, really?!” Felicity said, turning to face him, looking excited to hear some juicy gossip. “Who? Tell me!” Oliver gave a hearty laugh at her enthusiasm.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he insisted.

“You moaned someone else’s name while you were having sex with  _ her _ . I’m just wicked disappointed I haven’t heard this story before.” 

“Wicked disappointed?” he said with a grin.

“I went to college in Boston, don’t judge me,” she said, slapping his arm. “And quit trying to get out of answering the question. Whose name did you moan?” Oliver blushed and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Umm...yours?” he said. Felicity’s jaw dropped.

“ _ What _ ?! But we didn’t even--that wasn’t--you didn’t even think about me like that yet!”

“Oh, honey,” Oliver chuckled. “I thought about you  _ like that _ the moment you showed up to our first team mission in that gold dress.” 

“Wait, the  _ Dodger _ case?” she gaped at him. “That was like--just a few months after I joined the team!” Oliver grinned at her.

“I know.” Felicity couldn’t do anything but stare at him, trying to piece things together in her mind, but the alcohol had slowed everything down and now she was just confused. 

“I’m confused,” she said thickly.

“Last time we were here...that was about the time I realized I was crazy about you,” Oliver smiled. “When I saw the look on your face--how disappointed you were in me for sleeping with her. It hurt like hell to know I had hurt you. Took me a few days to really figure out why, but after you told me I deserved better I knew.”

“Knew what?” she asked.

“That I was in love with you,” he shrugged. 

“But that was six months before the mansion--when we fooled Slade--” Oliver nodded as she caught up to what he was telling her. Felicity looked a little dazed and her eyes fell to the hand where she still held her shot glass. Some had splashed onto the bed beside her, but there was still a decent shot left. 

“Prochnost!” she announced suddenly, as though she was entirely too proud of herself for pronouncing it, and she knocked back her drink. Oliver followed suit and shook his head in disbelief at her.

“You remembered!”

“ ‘course I did!” she slurred. “To strength! Not that what followed was a particularly strong moment for either of us,” she added under her breath. Oliver cleared his throat at that. Felicity moved quickly past the awkward moment and declared, “That’s not all the Russian I know! I’ve been practicing.” Oliver raised an eyebrow and she nodded proudly.

“Since when?” he asked incredulously.

“Since this summer. I had a lot of free time on my hands.”

“So what kinds of things can you say?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “And why am I only hearing about this now?” Felicity blushed and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not very good,” she admitted bashfully. “And you’re fluent. I didn’t want to sound...stupid.” 

“Felicity Smoak,” Oliver said in disbelief. “My very favorite genius. There isn’t a thing in the world that could make you sound stupid.” Felicity blushed an even brighter shade of red at that, her fingers fidgeting nervously with her phone in her lap. 

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” she said.

“Okay, try me,” Oliver prodded. Felicity bit her lip. “You can’t tell me you’ve been learning Russian and then not show me,” he insisted. Felicity smiled and sighed at him.

“Okay, fine,” she began, then cleared her throat. “Meenya zavoot Felicity,” she said, her pronunciation stilted and choppy. 

“Neeploha!” Oliver replied with a grin.

“Spaseeba.”

“That’s incredible,” Oliver said, his face lighting up with pride. 

“Really?” she asked, her nose scrunching up like she didn’t believe him. “I”m doing okay?” Oliver leaned in closer to her and tapped her nose as he replied,

“Ti takaya perfekt.” Felicity felt her heart skip a beat as her face flushed. She felt a heat spread through her that had nothing to do with the very strong Russian vodka she’d imbibed, a heat that matched the intensity of the gaze he had fixed on her. She pulled her lip between her teeth and tried to come up with a response, but her mind couldn’t even formulate an English sentence, let alone a Russian one.   
“That will never not be hot,” she said, only realizing she’d said it aloud when Oliver replied just as breathlessly,

“I know the feeling.” He licked his lips thoughtfully and she shivered as she tracked his tongue’s movement. “Mogu li ya potselovat tebya?” Felicity’s brow wrinkled in confusion for a split second and she shook her head before telling him,

“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m going to kiss you now.”

 

With no further preamble she captured his mouth with her own, opening for him, allowing their tongues to get reacquainted. Oliver’s fingers twisted in her hair, pulling her closer, desperately seeking to taste her, feel her, love her. She climbed into his lap, straddling his waist with one knee on each side and she pressed her chest against his, delighting in the fact that she’d decided to forego the bra with her pajamas of a tank top and shorts. Every trail his hands traced on her back and hips was intensified because of the thin barriers between them. Though the alcohol had slowed everything down, it meant she was that much more aware of the drag of his lips across her jaw and down her neck to her collarbone. He latched onto her neck and sucked a mark into her skin there, drawing a moan from her lips. 

 

“Okay this needs to come off like... _ now _ ,” she demanded, yanking at the hem of his t-shirt until she could pull it over his head and toss it behind her. Oliver returned the favor, discarding her pink tank top on the floor next to the bed and immediately taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pink bud until it was standing at attention before moving to the second one to pay it the same attention. Felicity arched her back, chasing the sensation as he tasted her and her fingers fisted in his hair, holding him against her as he worked. He sucked on her breast, releasing the nipple through his teeth and eliciting a sharp hiss from Felicity as the pain intensified the pleasure. 

 

Her hips began to undulate of their own volition, grinding down on his already prominent bulge, his hardness providing just the right amount of friction exactly where she needed it. A heady moan escaped her and he trailed a line of kisses back up to her mouth as his hands explored every inch of her exposed skin. 

 

“Felicity,” he whined, one hand trying to find its way between their bodies. She nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. She climbed off of him just long enough to drop her shorts into the growing pile of clothes, Oliver’s joining them seconds later. When she slid back into place they echoed each other’s moans when his length slipped against her wetness. She moved against him, sliding up and down his erection, using his cock in just the way she needed it. 

 

With one hand impossibly tight on her hip, he used his other to reach between them and find her clit, first using his thumb, then taking himself in his hand and rubbing the tip against it until she was panting above him in desperation. 

“Oh God,  _ Oliver _ ,” she cried, letting her head fall back as the pleasure spiked. He buried his face against her neck and reveled in the feel of her against him, drawing it out as long as he could before neither of them could handle another second of teasing. 

“Ready?” he managed. “Need to be inside you.” Felicity nodded frantically.

“Yes, please,” she begged. “I’m ready. I’m so ready.” 

 

He shifted to get the right angle and she sunk down on him in one smooth stroke, causing them both to cry out. He found her lips while she adjusted to the stretch of him inside her and he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth before nipping at it. Then finally she was moving, her hips rolling against him as she chased her release. Oliver’s eyes fell closed as he focused on the wet heat engulfing him, all of his focus on her--the needy, desperate sounds she was making against his ear, the way her nails were biting into his shoulders as she grasped onto him for dear life. The feel of her tight body fluttering around his as she got closer and closer to her orgasm. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost himself in her, so he did his best to get her there first. While she rode his cock, his fingers found her clit again and began to rub small, tight circles there, her breathy gasps increasing in pitch and volume with every movement. 

“Oliver,” she cried out. “I’m so close. I’m so close, oh God!”

“Me too,” he said. “It’s okay. Let go--come for me.” 

  
He felt the moment she reached the precipice and with one sharp pinch to her clit he pushed her over the edge into oblivion, her mouth opening in a silent scream as her walls began to pulse around him. Only a moment later he joined her in ecstasy, his cock twitching within her as his own pleasure overcame him. When he came back to himself she was slumped over him, her cheek on his shoulder and her eyes closed in bliss. He turned to press a kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her tightly, enveloping her in his embrace as he moved them so they were laying down. He pulled the blanket up over them and sighed contentedly when she snuggled against him, already fast asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoy my work, PLEASE leave a comment! It's so inspiring to hear that people have liked something I've worked hard on!
> 
> At least one, maybe two more parts to this.

Oliver couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up with a smile on his face. But as he came to in the dingy Moscow hotel room he let himself revel in the overwhelming feeling of joy settling over him. The memory of Felicity washed over him--the taste of her skin, the way his name fell from her lips, the look of pure, unadulterated want--no  _ need _ in her eyes that no doubt mirrored his own. 

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to either of them how the evening ended. Vodka had a way of loosening tongues and belts where the two of them were concerned. And then she’d started speaking Russian to him. He never stood a chance. He was so glad he’d agreed to her joining he and John on this mission of theirs. 

“It’ll be like old times!” she’d insisted. “OTA! The OGs!” Oliver had smiled and huffed a little at her enthusiasm, then sighed in defeat. And she had been right as usual: the three of them back in the field together felt right when nothing else had lately.

Certainly the new team was doing well--including Dinah who had thrown herself wholeheartedly into training as the next Black Canary. And after taking down Tobias Church and passing some well-received local legislation, Oliver’s mayoral approval rating had skyrocketed. He had even begun to almost enjoy the weird, pseudo-relationship he’d begun with the reporter, Susan Williams, despite the fact that there were many,  _ many _ topics of conversation he was required to steer clear of, she did do something to take the edge off of the loneliness he felt after everyone had left the lair each night. And Oliver was only human, after all. He was going on a year of celibacy, minus that one time in the bunker with Felicity. Also initiated because of a little too much Russian vodka. The next morning he’d woken up with a killer hangover and an empty bed. And apart from an evening of intense discomfort, it was as though it had never happened. They’d certainly never talked about it. 

And then last night happened. It was a bit like deja vu, though this time around they weren’t lamenting their ruined engagement on what should have been their wedding day. He should have known better than to keep pouring--they both should have--but he never could say no to her. Before long they were on top of each other, clothes tossed to the side, and when it was all over she’d curled up against him and they’d both slept peacefully for the first time in months. 

A grin crossed his face as he stretched, reaching for her to pull her close again. WHen he came up empty he opened his eyes, confused, to find her side of the bed cold and abandoned and her clothes absent from where he’d helped her deposit them the night before. His heart sank and he fell back against the pillow with a thud, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes angrily. 

 

“Oliver! Time to go man!” Came John’s voice and a knock at the door. 

“Down in ten,” Oliver replied. He allowed himself two more minutes to wallow in self pity, then took a five minute shower and dressed before heading down to the lobby. John was seated in a faded red armchair with a newspaper, but Felicity was absent.

“She should be down soon,” John said, seeing Oliver scanning their surroundings. “Do you want to talk about it?” he added, giving Oliver the all-knowing look he was so good at.

“Talk about what?” Oliver replied gruffly. John raised an eyebrow.

“The reason I ran into Felicity leaving your room at the asscrack of dawn? Or the reason she couldn’t string a sentence together when I asked her why?” John chuckled and Oliver just gave him a dirty look, sinking down into the chair opposite him. “Oh, that’s how it is then?”

“I don’t know how it is, John,” Oliver said irritably. John simply nodded smugly and went back to his newspaper. 

  
  


“Frak. Frak. More frak,” Felicity chanted as she banged her head against the yellowing wall of the shower, adding one more for good measure. 

 

Would there ever come a time when she could successfully navigate an adult relationship without failing miserably? 

 

For the second time she’d let herself slip. For the second time she’d found herself sneaking out of bed and doing the walk of shame away from the man she loved. For the second time she would now have to face him and pretend like all was well in the world. Only this time they weren’t the only people who knew what had happened, if the look on John’s face when he’d found her in the hallway, fleeing Oliver’s room that morning was any indication.

 

And really. What the hell was wrong with  _ him _ anyway? What kind of person thought it was even slightly appropriate to leave the two of them with a bottle of vodka unchaperoned in a hotel room? This was at least 15% John Diggle’s fault. He should have known better. Some bodyguard he turned out to be. 

 

Felicity finally made herself turn off the water and finish getting ready. She had to face the music eventually, even though starting a new life in Russia was sounding preferable to facing Oliver and then spending 15 hours on a very small plane together. She put the thought from her mind and put on her big-girl panties, then marched herself down to the lobby where the boys were waiting for her.

 

“Ready?” she asked breathily, wheeling her suitcase over to John’s chair. He looked up from his newspaper with a bit of judgement in his eyes and she glared at him, daring him to say what she knew he was thinking. Instead he folded up his newspaper and tucked it under his arm just as Oliver stood up and headed for the door without a word, walking the long way around to avoid her. Felicity fought to keep an unaffected look on her face, but John must have seen the disappointment in her eyes. He took pity on her, grabbing both his suitcase and hers and leading the way to the car. 

The silence was deafening and all encompassing for the first ten minutes of the drive, until John cleared his throat and glanced in the rearview mirror at Oliver and Felicity. The two of them were so far apart from each other that the only way to put more space between them would be to leave the car. 

“You know you two aren’t the first people in the world to have drunken sex with your ex, right?” John admonished them. Felicity flushed and looked up to meet his gaze in the mirror, scandalized as Oliver cleared his throat menacingly. “I’m just saying. It’s gonna be a long trip home if you two don’t figure this out.” 

“Hey, what happens in Russia stays in Russia,” Oliver said with a sharp, bitter undertone to his voice that wasn’t lost on the others. Felicity recognized it as the same tone she’d used on him when she had muttered the exact phrase several years earlier. The hurt and anger behind his words caused her eyes to burn with tears, and John watched as she pulled her scarf up over her face and sank down into her seat a bit. 

John put his hands up, conceding, but he kept checking the mirror, watching Felicity as she surreptitiously wiped her eyes on her sleeve and Oliver, whose face was set like stone as he stared out the window. 

The small ARGUS plane was waiting for them at the airfield and they boarded, spending the first few hours in almost total silence. Felicity was busy doing something on her tablet while Oliver did some more brooding. John, patient as always, sat in his seat with his usual thoughtful look on his face, glancing from one to the other, then back to his newspaper.  

 

Around hour four, he’d finally had enough, and he leaned forward to address Felicity who was curled up in a ball in her seat, watching a movie and stealing glances at Oliver every so often. She jumped when John’s hand landed on her leg, and she yanked her earbud out in irritation to listen.

“Is this how it was all summer?” he whispered, nodding his head toward Oliver. 

“John, please,” she pleaded, but he shook his head.

“You two need to figure this out. I did my time. Three and a half years of it. I don’t care what happened last night. Fix it.” Felicity glared at him.

“There’s nothing to fix.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed. 

“John--” she began, but he interrupted.

“No. No more,” he announced, raising his voice so Oliver could hear. As expected he glanced over to see what they were talking about. “You two hash this shit out. Now.” 

“I told you there’s nothing to fix,” Felicity said through gritted teeth. 

“Nothing,” Oliver said sarcastically. “Nothing happened last night. Just like nothing happened this summer.” John raised an eyebrow at the two of them, clearly not having any clue about their previous vodka-induced mistake. 

“Oh for the love of--”John groaned in frustration. “The two of you are the most stubborn, pig-headed, senseless idiots I have ever--” 

“If she wants to pretend it didn’t happen then who am I to remind her?” Oliver said. Felicity turned her glare from John to Oliver, leaning forward in her seat.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ! Last time I checked  _ you _ were the one who came by my apartment a few months ago to tell me you weren’t interested in fixing our relationship. That you thought we worked better as friends. Or did you forget  _ that _ happened?”

“Felicity--” Oliver growled. John merely sat back in his chair to watch. 

“No!” She insisted, her loud voice in full force as the tears began to well up in her eyes, the words coming out shaky. “You said you didn’t want this. That you didn’t want  _ me _ . So excuse me for getting out of there this morning before you could wake up and tell me you regretted it and then reject me again!” John’s mouth fell open a bit at that and he suddenly felt bad for igniting the tinder that had started their argument. Felicity’s fingers were white where she held onto the armrests of her seat and Oliver looked like someone had slapped him across the face. 

“You’re right,” he finally managed, his voice so quiet John almost missed it. “I’m sorry, Felicity,” he added, leaning towards her. “But you’re also wrong--” he continued, and Felicity’s eyes narrowed again. “I could never regret...this. Us.”

“Just pick a lane, Oliver,” she said after a moment of silence. “I can’t deal with this anymore. Either you want this or you don’t. And if you don’t? Then I’m not waiting around for you to change your mind again.” 

 

With that she stood up and stalked off to the bathroom, leaving Oliver and John to stare at each other in shock. 

“I uh--sorry about that,” John apologized. “I had no idea you guys--”

“Just. Stop,” Oliver put his hand up. “Stop helping.” 

“Yes, sir,” John replied. 

  
The remaining ten hours of the flight were even more silent and awkward than the first five.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of Russian:
> 
> "My name is Felicity"  
> "Not bad!"  
> "Thank you."
> 
> "You're perfect."
> 
> "Can I kiss you?"


End file.
